Draw the Veil
by featheredschist
Summary: Life and times of shapeshifter Avengers. We're not duplicating the movie, btw. (A better summary is forthcoming, when I truly figure this story out) AU - shapeshifters EXPLICIT, threesomes(Clint/Tony/Bruce), drama, angst, romance, violence, child abandonment (more tags as they occur - keep an eye on future chapters)
1. Chapter 1

Draw the Veil Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is very much an AU story – supernatural in nature, though not connected to the show of the same name. Some humans are shapeshifters. The story is one with no Hulk, but a very smart Bruce (think comics type, from Planet Hulk, forward). Clint normally has blue eyes, but they just don't work for a hawk, so I gave him blue-amber ones; a touch weird, but that's the fun of writing AU! I rightly pin the 'blame' on sussing out Bruce's techno-gadgets on Determamfidd, she of the Hulk Knowledge. Thanks lady! See the bottom for more notes. Own nothing recognizable but my plot, the powers for the shifters, and the crazies.

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He woke, mind groggy, senses slow. He lay on the dirt floor of a cave, where he always ended up after his changes. That was good. Before he opened his eyes, he mentally took stock of his physical condition. Slowly tensing and releasing muscles up and down his long limbs, he was able to confirm the proper working order of his body, with no outstanding injuries and no lingering soreness or stiffness from his time as his other self. Once this was done, he relaxed, breathing into a meditative trance, in no hurry to leave.

Shortly, there was a scrabbling at the entrance to the cave that had the man tensing, ready to defend himself...except...

"Banner, you're a difficult man to find sometimes," came a voice he knew very well. A warm, loving voice.

He huffed a laugh, sitting up, opening chocolate brown eyes to take in the sight of his old friend, and occasional lover, Clint Barton, the Amazing Hawkeye, lately of SHIELD. An average man, sandy blond hair shot through with darker streaks and glowing, blue-amber eyes. As marks of their animal sides went, it was striking on him.

"That's the point of a retreat, Barton. Social animal like you wouldn't know the meaning of need to center oneself," Banner retorted, pulling himself into a cross-legged position, back against the smooth rock wall. He'd spent enough breaks from his work as a professor there to appreciate some creature comforts as smooth walls, and he'd put in the work to guarantee it.

"Introvert," Clint said, with affection, settling on his haunches beside his friend. They shared a smile.

"So what does SHIELD's best marksman want with UC Berkeley's third best professor of nuclear physics on this fine April day?", Banner got to the point. Something Clint always appreciated about the man.

"SHIELD needs you, Bruce. There's been a nuke scare. Cropped up on our terrorism nets. Coulson would like you to come in and see if you can figure anything out," Clint explained, head low, not meeting Bruce's eyes. It had nothing to do with the fact that Bruce was more of an apex predator than himself, nor did it have anything to do with shame at ruining the man's vacation. He just hated being the bearer of bad news to people he cared about.

"Damn. You're certain?" Bruce asked, growling in trepidation. He knew this was likely to get ugly, fast.

"As certain as we can be." Clint couldn't reveal more, and Bruce knew why. Their location was under a camp ground, and any sounds within carried. The place was largely left alone because the park ranger for that area was a fellow shifter he'd reached an agreement with. That ranger kept his cave protected from hikers and campers, allowing Bruce to store bits of gear in the far back portion of the cave system he'd claimed for his quarterly retreats.

"All right. Let me clean up the place. We'll need to call the Dean along the way so my classes get handled," Bruce agreed, surging up to his feet, briefly looming over the other man. Some animals took this as a threat, Clint simply sat, waiting for Bruce to move. They had too much history together for dominance displays like the young bucks engaged in.

"Need me to do anything?" Clint offered, looking up at the burly, half naked physicist. He appreciated Bruce's body without being too obvious about it. The bear scientist took good care of himself, was trim, and toned without looking like a steroid jock. His torso was covered in dark hair, and the mop on top of his head was all fluffy curls and salt and pepper color. Bruce gave a lopsided grin to the archer, knowing he was being checked out.

"Go find Jimmy, tell him I'm leaving early. This time of day, he's probably in the south meadow, scaring kids," Bruce told him, smoothly moving to the back of the cave, where the system of tunnels disappeared into the murky gloom.

"Right, be back shortly," Clint said, jumping to his feet. He never landed, instead, blurring into his bird form and flapping strong, brown feathered wings to grab air outside the mouth of the cave to head for open sky.

"Show off," Bruce called, getting a sharp shriek that was almost laughter in return. Bruce chuckled, turning back to put up his supplies and cover the whole with the dark camouflage netting. He grabbed the pack he'd hiked in with, fished out a clean shirt, and tugged it on over his broad, barrel chest. Slipping his wide feet into his sandals, he got moving, knowing to meet Clint at the closest parking lot.

He found Clint leaning against the hood of a powder blue, '67 Mustang convertible, sunglasses wrapped around his face.

"Huh, pulled the 'stang out of mothballs just for me?" Bruce leered as he approached the other man.

"As if. Get your dusty ass over here, fur ball. We need to be in Pismo Beach by 10am tomorrow," Clint moved from the hood to the driver's side of the car, sliding neatly into place behind the wheel. Bruce threw his pack into the open back seat and climbed into the passenger seat, settling onto the cream colored leather with a sigh. Clint peeled out of the lot, startling a family repacking their van, making Bruce laugh. The deep, free sound made Clint smile as he shifted the car onto the highway and into high gear for decent cruising speed.

They traveled in companionable silence for a couple of hours, just letting the road speak to them, the wind rush past. Dinner was a stop at a truck dive, tucked into a back booth where Clint could keep his eyes on everyone and everything. Something Bruce was intimately familiar with, in regards to his hawk.

"So, how's Nat?" Bruce asked over a BLT and bowl of chili.

"Fine, on separate assignment," Clint answered, swallowing a bit of his fried chicken.

"Oh? Damn. Hoped it'd be 'old home week' for us. Well, never mind, we'll have to arrange something later," Bruce said, take a bite of whole wheat, lettuce, tomato and bacon.

"We might get to see her, depends. Her assignment is Stark." Bruce's eyes went large in his surprise and he nearly choked on the food he was trying to swallow.

"Really? The billionaire industrialist? Damn curious now, feather brain."

"Aren't you in luck, we're heading into some rough weather then?" And Bruce grinned, blunt white teeth showing. That was old code for the need to talk openly, which meant the roof would be up on the 'stang. It really meant nothing, but in the old days, needing that privacy was such a luxury, and they had to create something for themselves.

They finished dinner, making time for dessert to compensate for their higher than average metabolisms, and got back on the road, the blaze of the setting sun on their right as they drove southward. With the top up, Clint plugged an iPod into the custom stereo and found the jazz they both liked.

"So, Nat's with Stark," Bruce opened with, leaning his head back, but keeping his eyes on Clint as he drove. The shadows that played across the other man's face highlighted the planes of his angular cheeks and chin.

"Yup. Fury wants to see what he's like since his kidnapping."  
"Ugh, read about that. Nasty business. What's Fury going to do with him?"

"Consultant work," Clint shrugged.

"Thought he was out of the weapons business?" Bruce mused, tapping a finger against his chin as he thought back to that long ago article.

"Dunno. Coulson won't talk about it. This other business though..." Clint trails off.

"Yes, how do you know about a possible nuke?"

"Seat pocket behind me," Clint said. Bruce reached for the flap on the back of the bucket seat, and found a manila envelope. Drawing it into his lap, he next reached for his bag and rummaged for the small flashlight he carries for emergencies. He flicked it on and opened the envelope to pull out several reports. A summary sheet on top gave Bruce some details. He read.  
"Analysts discovered a cache of radium missing from Arco, NM*. Protests by Children of St Michael noted in the area 2 days prior. Hmpf, them again," Clint grunted agreement. Bruce read on, "Unspecified threat received by Secret Service regarding Presidential trip to Thailand. SHIELD asked to investigate."

"Doesn't sound like much, does it?" Clint said when Bruce reached the end of the summary. Bruce sighed, scrubbing a hand over his fluffy, curly hair as he thought.

"The radium alone is cause for concern. Who else knows it's missing?" Bruce wondered out loud.

"Fifth report," was his answer. Bruce shuffled papers, drawing out the one indicated and skimming the information it contained. The beam of light stayed steady as he read. Apparently several alphabet soup groups knew the material was missing, but SHIELD (re: Fury) had wrangled the job under their auspices. Bruce hummed, considering.

"Well, I guess we'll see when we get there, but too many opportunities here for everything to go tits up, you know that."

Clint rolled his eyes, "Coulson is having kittens because of that report."

"I can imagine. Loose lips and all that government crap." They laugh and Bruce continued reading more of the main report.

It didn't take him long and he was able to soon switch off the small flashlight. Clint hadn't complained, but it was easier for him without the light. Another hour passed, and Bruce could tell Clint needed to rest.

"Hey, bird boy," he called across the soft sounds of Duke Ellington.

"Huh?" Clint grunted, zoned out.

"Either pull over so we can sleep, or let me drive. I think you need it," Bruce suggested.

"Hm, it's a thought, I guess. Where are we?" Clint handed Bruce his phone to try and figure out their location.

"No need man. I know where we are. Here, take the next exit, it'll send us to Hollister. I can make a pit stop," he grinned manically, almost overeager at the idea. Clint rolled his eyes again, and laughs, but takes the physicist's directions.

* * *

AN: * - Arco is a made up location, but appears to be a street name (after a Google search).

Ok so this universe is mine, whole cloth/closet, whatever the idea. The only recognizable bits are the fact that these guys are sort of superheroes. As I said in the disclaimer, Bruce did not take that job that led to the creation of the Hulk. But Bruce is a nerdy God in his own right, and I am playing that to the hilt. His intelligence is on par with Tony's, always was; they just work in different areas. Story will reveal their PhDs, I promise, maybe. This is also a threesome, slash fic. My lame attempts at intimate moments will be on display. Go easy on me, please? If you have any questions about the universe I've created, feel free to find me on any of the other social media I belong to. Go to my profile for my various handles. PMs are welcome, as is concrit. Flames are disregarded. If you don't like the pairings, don't read, simple as that. PS - I will likely be putting truly explicit scenes on AO3, as FFNet doesn't like them anymore. I will mention when that happens.


	2. Chapter 2

Draw the Veil Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Welcome back! Still just building Stark Towers in the sand. Do not own, certainly not worth suing. Let's go play. This is a kissing chapter, so you have fair warning.

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Hollister is a sleepy little town, dependent on tourism, and agriculture. Bruce had chosen it as an ideal site to stash his laboratory outside of school. He had built a Quonset several miles outside of town, and then a small, modular home beside it. He'd tucked both into the scrub, and had several acres of decent grazing land he rented to local cattlemen. Clint appreciated the trees, they offered a variety of high perches he could use if the situation ever warranted.

"We can stay tonight, and I can get a few things from the lab in the morning," Bruce told him as they pulled up the gravel drive.

"Sounds good. One less thing on the expense report and Fury's happy," Clint quipped, putting the Mustang in park, and turning off the engine.

"Only one real issue, guest room isn't set up. And the couch is lumpy," Bruce said, getting out of the car. He reached into the back seat for his bag, then headed for the front door.

"Unless something's changed between us, Banner?" Clint replied offhandedly, going into the trunk for his own go bag, and bow case with quiver. He never went without, even though he carried smaller weapons stashed about his person. Bruce laughed, and opened the front door, inviting the archer inside.

"Welcome home, Bruce," came the soft, lilting voice of his command AI.

"It is good to be home, Greta," he announced to the open room. Lights came on with his words, acknowledging his presence.

"You finished her programming?" Clint asked, astounded. He looked over the room, only seeing an average living space, with a couch, couple of arm chairs and a few scattered tables on a hardwood floor. Bruce's wide, open smile served as his answer.

"C'mon, let's not stand in the doorway. Greta hates bugs," Bruce waved the archer inside.

"May we be of assistance, Bruce?" Greta asked, as the door closed automatically behind Clint. A soft 'click' signaled the lock engaging.

"We're just staying the night, Greta. What supplies are laid in for breakfast?" Bruce queried. He usually called ahead, but hadn't had the opportunity on this trip.

"Unfortunately sir, just your usual powdered and dry supplies. And a request from town won't reach here before noon." The AI's measured cadence was very soothing on the ears, Clint thought as he took in more details of the open floor plan. He could see the kitchen, separated by a dining bar, shining in its chrome appointments, set off by the warm, honey oak cabinetry. There were three darkened doorways he presumed led to other rooms, and one sliding glass door directly across from the front door, leading to the outside.

"I could hunt in the morning?" Clint offered. He wasn't sure what was available prey, but could probably find something. He leaned against the buff colored wall to unlace his boots and shake them off. Bruce toed off his sandals as well, before moving into the main room.

Bruce rumbled, thinking. "There's naught but scrub rabbits. Enough for you, I suspect," he replied.

"Hm, you did eat lightly at dinner. Protein shake going to be enough?" Clint teased, a soft light in his eyes, following Bruce.

Bruce's answering leer gave Clint a bare second's start. "Maybe, but I can always dine on stuffed pheasant!", and Bruce chased him deeper into the house. Clint bolted, looking for a perch to elude his large friend.

He cornered Clint in the master bedroom, decorated to resemble something of a cave, painted with dark grays and browns, with muted, midnight blues for contrast in the fabrics. The hawk perched on the bed, panting a little from the short burst of energy. It was his last, as tired as he was.

"That came outta nowhere," he gasped, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Was saving that up, for a more appropriate time," Bruce quipped, moving slowly, and with exaggerated care towards the bed. His wide, strong hands were outstretched before him, as though he hoped to hold Clint in place.

"Oh really?" Clint wondered, quickly licking his lips in anticipation. Bruce stared at the tip of his tongue as it swept over the plump bow of pink flesh.

"Yes really," Bruce whispered, crawling up on to the bed, and pinning the other man in place against the headboard as he advanced up the archer hawk's body to claim his lips in a searing kiss.

"Missed you," he mumbled, plundering his way into Clint's mouth. Clint groaned, bringing his hands up to grasp Bruce around the shoulders, tugging him closer.

"Missed...you," he panted back when Bruce pulled a little back to give them breathing room.

"Bath?" Bruce suggested, a quirk to his lips as he surveyed Clint's blown pupils and kiss reddened lips.

"Hm, yes. Good idea," Clint murmured huskily. He followed Bruce out of the bed and across the room to a darker entryway.

A soft light rose up in this room, giving the area the gentle glow of late afternoon, or early evening, a rosy, golden light. It revealed an intriguing effect built into the room. The functional pieces of the bathroom flowed in natural curves and were hidden with paneling and hanging vines, giving an overall effect of a forest grotto. The tub was huge, formed from a concrete mold to resemble a shallow pool. Easily 7 feet up along one side was a pair of waterfall shower heads that poured water into the pool. The 'ugly' concrete form had been patterned to resemble pebbles and sand along the bottom. It had been stained in earth colors: lots of browns, greens and grays, making it appear part of a forest floor. The whole room looked like heaven to Clint.

Both men shed their clothes shortly after Bruce turned on the hidden taps to fill the pool with hot tub temperature water. He looked at Clint, appreciating the other man's trim, and toned body, before climbing into the tub. "Up to you if you want a shower, or just relax in the bath. I'm for relaxing," he said, settling into the warmth of the 4' deep tub with a groan. Clint slid noiselessly in beside him.

"This is a beautiful place," he softly said, coming over to lean on Bruce's broad shoulder. Bruce pulled the other man in close, letting Clint snuggle. Both were tactile creatures, appreciating close contact just for the sake of touching. They sighed together, content in the silence. Until Clint decided they needed to pick up where they'd left off in the bedroom.

Bruce gave Clint a massage while soaping him up, turning the man's muscles to mush. He paid special attention to the archer's arms, working small sections at a time between his agile hands.

"You flew too much," he admonished, working over Clint's right elbow.

"New drills. Bosses want us able to do stunt maneuvers on the wing," Clint sleepily mumbled.

"Hm. They need shifters in their management ranks. Coulson can only do so much for everyone," Bruce grumbled. He hated the idea of the other shifters potentially being overworked, or even abused in some Agent's idea of training their "pet animals" to be better weapons.

"Don't fuss, not right now. Please?" Clint requested. He was happy, and sleepy, and didn't want to ruin more of the mood by getting into a discussion about SHIELD with his lover.

"Okay," Bruce allowed, giving Clint a soft kiss in apology. "Let's go to bed, hm? Tomorrow will probably be a long day," he stood, water sheeting off the hard planes of muscles of his body. He extended a hand to Clint, pulling the younger man up beside him. Clint leaned on Bruce to get out of the tub safely, not being used to using it.

Bruce handed him an oversized, warm towel and had one for himself. They quickly dried off and returned to the bedroom to crawl between the sheets of the California king bed. They curled around each other and quickly fell into sleep.

Only a few hours later, Bruce was awake again, getting by on power naps more than solid sleep. He quietly watched Clint for a few minutes. The younger man was perfectly relaxed and deeply asleep, trusting in Bruce's presence to keep him safe. It comforted Bruce to know he fostered such trust. They weren't often able to get together, with Clint's job, but did as they could, and enjoyed their precious time together. He caressed the archer's face with the tips of his blunt fingers before leaving the hawk curled in bed.

He went to his dresser to grab a pair of soft, jersey, drawstring pants to wear, as he headed out to his lab. "Greta, please keep an eye on Clint and let me know when he begins to stir," he requested of his AI as he strolled through the house.

"Of course, Bruce. Shall I start the kettle?", she replied in her artificially accented voice.

"Please. I'll be there shortly." Bruce found the pile of community newspapers he couldn't convince the town to stop sending. Those went to the recycling bin. He checked the answering machine, but knew it was empty. Greta forwarded important called to him and deleted unimportant ones. Housework dealt with, he moved to the sliding door and unlocked it. He slid the door open soundlessly on its track and stepped out into the predawn air.

Bruce went into his lab, accepting the cup of hot Darjeeling one of the robotic arms held for him. "Thanks," he said, absentmindedly. "Greta, need to pack for an extended trip away. What do you think I should take?", he asked his lab in general, settling on a stool beside a cluttered desk. They spent the next two hours discussing and deciding on different bits of tech Bruce could take with him. He was able to back a satchel with a few of the more portable bits before Greta told him Clint was waking up.

He went back to the house, and the bedroom, where a sleepy archer blinked at him. "It's early, we don't need to be moving for at least another 3 hours," Clint grumbled.

"I know, just had to take care of a few things," Bruce said, a touch mysterious, as he climbed back into bed to cuddle with the hawk.

"Hmpf," Clint grunted, wrapping Bruce in his embrace and nuzzling his neck before sighing deeply and falling back to sleep.

"Greta, alarm for 2.5 hours please," Bruce requested, settling deep into the mattress and Clint's hold before yawning and going back to sleep. A soft beep was all the answer he got.

* * *

AN – for the sake of FFNet's ratings, I've pulled any mention of steaminess out of this chapter, and all future stories. If you like that kind of thing, see my profile for where else to find my stories. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Draw the Veil Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Still don't own. Still very AU. Very slow build!

* * *

After the alarm went off a couple hours later, they dressed and headed into town for breakfast at the local diner. Bruce had a huge stack of pancakes, with an overstuffed omelet and 3 meats before him. Clint was busy making in roads on an order of steak and eggs. Coffee was ignored in favor of iced tea and orange juice. They were largely ignored by the rest of the diners and the staff, but there was one interruption from a farmer.

"Doc Banner?" an older man in patched overalls came up to their table. Clint realized the man was all human.  
"Morning, Hamish. What can I do for you?" Bruce responded, sipping his tea, and gazing at the man in a languid fashion.

"Doc, it's nearly time to get with the ranchers over this year's water rights," Hamish answered. He really didn't want to be there, but the farmers needed to know that Bruce had gotten the reminders.

"Ah yes. I got the email notifications from the town council, and the Farm Bureau. I'm not sure my current business will allow me to return in time, Hamish. But have Katie email me with whatever changes both groups think are necessary. Though I can't think I need to change anything," Bruce informed the farmer. He managed to reasssure the old man with his words though.

"I understand, Doc. I'll make sure the others know. Thank you for your time. Pardon the intrusion," Hamish almost gave a bow before he slipped away.

"Water rights?" Clint asked, curious. He'd remained quiet throughout the exchange.

"I deliberately chose my land because of the aquifers* on site. Several of them feed streams that cross most of the valley. The ranchers use most of the property for grazing and the farms around it get their water from me," Bruce told him. He forked up some omelet and stuffed it into his mouth and chewed while Clint thought about it.

"Wasn't this all federal land at one point?" Clint wondered.

"It was, about 20 years ago. BLM needed stewards. I wrangled more. It's mine, free and clear. Though I 'rent' the water out," Bruce confirmed.

"Not bad. How big is the place?" Clint whistled his appreciation.

"'Bout 5 miles on a side, as the hawk flies," was the offhand reply, as they finished up. Clint laughed. They left enough cash to cover the bill before rising to leave and head ingfor the Mustang. Bruce kept checking his satchel that he refused to leave in the car. He thought he'd have to test that theory next time they came through.

The trip to Pismo Beach was uneventful after that. Just a pleasant morning's drive along the California coast. They arrived at the SHIELD offices a good hour before Clint's requirement, and parked the Mustang in the covered lot beside the building.

"You know, I'm not sure I have my ID with me," Bruce muttered aloud as they approached the concrete and steel edifice. There was an electronic chirp from his pants pocket. He fished out his black cell phone and thumbed it on. A text from his AI told him to check the pocket of the messenger bag. He did so, finding the laminated, clip on badge he'd been issued years ago as a consultant.

"Ah, thank you Greta," he quietly said, attaching the badge to a lapel of his button down. His phone chirped again, indicating a new message – _Put your earbud in!_ It said, somehow conveying emphasis

"Yes mom," he laughed, pushing open a small compartment on the phone to reveal what appeared to be a hearing aid. He plucked it out and inserted it into his left ear.

"All set?" Clint asked, standing quietly beside Bruce as he messed with his AI and his badge. The AI was one of the pinnacles of Bruce's genius, and Clint had open access to a lot of gadgets. But that thing was almost too creepy to deal with, sometimes.

"Yep," Bruce said, striding forward once more. Clint caught him up at the door, reaching around the professor to pull open the heavy glass and metal monstrosity. Once through the door, Clint moved back to Bruce's side, directing where they needed to go. They breezed past the receptionist/guard, and stopped at the elevators. Clint pushed the UP button, and fidgeted in place, minutely shifting the polo he'd grumbled into that morning. From beside him, Bruce stood unmoving, a half smile on his lips at the antics of the archer.

"Can't be still, can you?" he quietly asked his friend.

Clint snickered and shook his head, "Only as required by the job."

They didn't speak again until they arrived on the 8th floor, and were confronted by extra security. Clint grunted in surprise while Bruce blinked owlishly at the two guards' requests for their IDs. There was a shifter in his animal form with them, but the Doberman ignored them, knowing Clint by sight, and Bruce by scent and history. One of the non-shifter guards closely inspected their IDs while the other called Agent Coulson to confirm their presence on the Agent floor. Clint rolled his eyes at Bruce for this new wrinkle, making Bruce duck his head to hide the uptick in the corner of his mouth. They were finally permitted to leave the foyer and make their way to Coulson's borrowed office.

Clint didn't bother knocking on the otherwise open door, but began picking on his handler just as he crossed the threshold. "What's up with the goons at the gate, Coulson? Something make Hill all twitchy?" he snarked, coming to a stop at one of the stiff backed chairs on the outside of the black metal desk that squatted in the middle of the room.

"That was installed this morning, just to aggravate you, Barton," Coulson fired back, not even glancing up from whatever held his attention on the desktop.

"Agent Coulson," Bruce interrupted Clint's next volley, preferring to get a move on with his visit.

"Doctor Banner, thank you for coming. Have a seat. Barton, the door," Coulson looked up at the physicist, assessing him.

Bruce calmly stared back, unflinching under the weight of Coulson's stare. They did this every time they saw each other, trying to psych each other out, and assess if the other was taking care of Clint. If it were possible, Coulson appeared to be making a display on a claimed shifter. Clint used his foot to knock the door shut and then claimed his chair. Bruce slid into the other chair, having reached a detente with Coulson, again. Truly, Clint was in good hands as long as Coulson was his handler, and Bruce accepted that.

Coulson pulled a file folder from the stack of manila beside his keyboard and handed it over to Bruce. "Updates on what Barton gave you. We'll be leaving for the helicarrier tonight," he informed the both of them.

"Helicarrier's where?" Clint wanted to know.

"New York still. Fury's been dealing with UN Security matters for the last month," Coulson replied evenly.

"Poor bastard. All right, we'll be back at 5 then," Clint moved to stand back up.

"I need the good doctor to stay behind for the usual consultant paperwork," Coulson reminded them. Clint nodded, unhappy. Bruce looked resigned. It didn't matter if a month, or a year passed between his 'consults', they always made him fill out the blasted paperwork. Phil Coulson surprised him this time, handing over a stack of already filled out forms. Bruce looked for a pen in the clutter before him.

"Just initial and sign as indicated, Doctor. At this point, we figure eveything's the same," Coulson had a small smile on his face in response to Bruce's obvious surprise.

"Great!" Clint said, happy to not end up wasting an hour to boring paperwork. Bruce smiled and quickly scanned the forms. Nothing needed changing, so he was able to get through all 15 pages in 10 minutes.

"At least that is more efficient. My thanks, Coulson," Bruce said, handing back the stack and pen. Coulson merely nodded and dismissed them.

"Ya know, we should head to the range, make sure your proficiency is still where it ought to be," Clint suggested as they headed back to the elevators.

"Hm, if you insist. Then perhaps I might have something for you," Bruce responded. They passed the guards, and Bruce reached out to pet the Doberman shifter.  
"Hey Tommy, how goes?" he spoke in an undertone, truly only meant for the shifter's sharp ears. The guards took offense to their dog being manhandled. One got right in Bruce's personal space, kneeing the dog out of the way, making him yelp.

"Get away from the dog, freak!" the guard snarled, pushing Bruce back against the wall.

"Whoa man, chill. The dog's one of us," Clint tried to diffuse the situation, tried stepping between the two combatants. The other guard grabbed the archer by the shoulder and spun him around.

"Ain't none of your concern, freak," this guard's voice lacked inflection, completely toneless. He threw a punch at Clint's head. He blocked it, grabbed the guy's wrist and pinned his arm behind his back.

"Look, we don't want," the archer began to explain. The guard bucked his body off the wall and freed his arm with a great wrenching motion. He spun back on Clint, and attempted to sweep the hawk's legs from under him. The first meathead was trying to pin Bruce to the other wall, but Bruce just kept moving, bobbing and weaving as he ducked the burly man's clumsy strikes. Tommy, the dog shifter, hightailed it for Coulson's office, barking. He shifted to give the Agent a quick sitrep and then ran after Coulson back to the elevator.

"Hey!", Coulson yelled, gaining everyone's attention. "Stop this nonsense, immediately!" Clint and Bruce pulled back, moving easily towards Coulson. Tommy paused behind the agent, content to watch. The two guard had been dropped to the floor, both with visible injuries, a pair of broken noses. Clint swiped a hand at his mouth, where his opponent had managed a lucky shot through his guard. Bruce fished into his messenger bag, and pulled out a handkerchief and wet wipe, handing both over.

Coulson observed both pairs as he finished approaching, his eyes a glittery, icy blue, promising a world of pain for someone. "Now," he said, voice soft, yet hard, "Someone explain to me exactly what happened here?" He caught the eyes of each fighter. The two guards remained stubbornly silent. "Specialist Regan?" Coulson queried, knowing the shifter was behind him.  
"Yes sir?" Tommy responded immediately.

"Please call for some medics to attend these fools while I talk with Dr. Banner and Specialist Barton over here," Coulson requested.

"At once sir," and Tommy grabbed the mike off one of the guards to do exactly that. He couldn't keep the growl out of his voice though, and hoped it only conveyed a sense of urgency to the medics.

Coulson waved the pair of shifters deeper into the hall to speak quietly.

"All right," he sighed, "What happened out there?"

Bruce took the lead, it was, after all, his 'fault'. "I stopped to say hello to Specialist Regan. The guards took offense to that, to the point of calling us," he indicated Clint beside him, "Freaks. They were throwing punches and otherwise attempting to detain us for some unspecified reason," Bruce finished explaining.

"Do you concur, Specialist Barton?" Coulson asked his asset, eyes taking in a blooming bruise on the other man's jaw. Clint nodded.

"Specialist Regan?" Coulson asked the other shifter, knowing they'd been overhead.

"That's what happened, sir. I got pushed out of the way, and one of my feet stepped on," Tommy added.

Coulson sighed, "We'll need to call Agent Thomlinson then. And whomever is in charge of the guards here. The three of you get to the excuse of Medical they have before doing anything else today. Regan, you have the rest of the day off. Thank you gentlemen." All three men disappeared as soon as Phil stopped speaking, electing to head for the stairs rather than wade through the jumble of medics, guards, and agents. Phil turned back to the foyer, rubbed his forehead once, and waded in, getting to work.


	4. Chapter 4

Draw the Veil Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still building Helicarriers in the sand. Do not own, please don't sue.

* * *

The medical check up cleared all 3 shifters quickly, finding no damage that would require care. They quickly left the section.

"Tommy, I 'm sorry," Bruce apologized, as they left Medical, avoiding the appearance of the guards and the Agents with them.

"Hey, Banner, it's good, really," Tommy replied quietly, shaking his head. He'd had problems with those two before.

"You want to grab lunch, man?" Clint offered, quickly confirming with Bruce that the invite was okay with him. The half grin he got in reply reassured him.

"I'm not intruding?" Tommy wondered, flicking his gaze between the other two. Most of the shifters in SHIELD's employ knew that this pair was together.

"Nah, you go change, we'll meet you upstairs in 10," Clint said, giving the other shifter a nudge in the shoulder. Tommy grinned, all teeth and jogged off to head for the locker rooms and a set of civvies.

Bruce took a moment after he'd left to brush Clint up against the nearest alcove and held him there with his bulk. "Damn it Clint, you know I don't sign on for this nonsense. SHIELD is supposed to be safe," he growled, pinning the man with his hard, brown gaze as well as his not insignificant weight.

"I know, Bruce. This was," Clint dropped his head onto the other man's shoulder. He had no words for what this was. Other than wrong. Bruce leaned forward and breathed Clint's scent, settling his nerves and tamping down on his desire to go and further rough up the two guards. Clint stood and accepted that Bruce needed to reassure himself. Bruce huffed a little, and softly growled, nudging his face into the join of Clint's neck and shoulder.

"We're fine, big guy, really," Clint whispered, nudging his nose up by Bruce's ear. Bruce nodded, stepping back.

They started walking again, heading towards the reception area.

"How many shifters are based here?" Bruce wanted to know after they had gone on for a few feet.

"Not sure. We're usually based in San Francisco or Los Angeles if we're in California at all. This is a small office, mostly analysts I think," Clint didn't know much about the office they were in. He'd wondered why Coulson hadn't settled for San Francisco when the decision had been made to request Bruce's assistance, but never asked.

"Do you think the attitude is prevalent? It might be something to talk to Coulson and this Thomlinson about," Bruce continued, an idea forming in his head. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a tablet to scrawl a note to Greta.

Clint could only shrug, he was never bothered by anyone who had problems with shifters. It could be a thing, but he didn't want to think too deeply about it, not yet, not with a new mission before him.

The wait for Tommy Regan was short, and the trio of shifters signed out of the building and headed for Clint's car to argue over a good spot for lunch.

"Trust me guys, this is the place," Tommy informed the others when they pulled up in front of an old buffet diner.

"Man, I hope so. Can hear someone's stomach from here!" Clint harassed. Bruce laughed and climbed out of the back seat. He'd ceded gunshot since Tommy knew his way around town. They walked into the place and Clint and Bruce were immediately aware of why the place was perfect.

Aside from being stocked like a Vegas buffet, mountains of food nearly as far as the eye could see in the middle of the restaurant, the place clearly stank of shifters. Most of the clientele appeared to be shifters, but the overwhelming aura had to come from...

"The owners," Tommy admitted, laughing at their poleaxed expressions. "Sara! Brought two more!" he called to someone in the distance. Clint caught sight of a woman wearing jeans and a soft, blue sweater, who turned in their direction.

"Seat yourself, Tom!" an older, female voice responded. He waved the other two to a corner booth. Bruce slid in first, letting himself be bracketed by Clint, who always needed to keep an eye on a new place. Tommy shook his head, settling across from them. He'd not ever convince them to relax.

The older woman Clint had seen earlier appeared seconds later, iron gray hair in a fashionable bob cut, framing a slightly wrinkled face. Green eyes peered at them, framed by crow's feet and laugh lines.

"Guys, this is Sara, one half of this place. Sara, my friends, from the Bay Area, Clint and Bruce," Tommy made introductions. Clint grinned insouciantly at her, the born troublemaker. Bruce just nodded, a soft, teasing smile playing about his lips.

"Ma'am," Bruce said, voice a warm, rumbly purr.

"Oh ho, you brought me troublemakers today, didn't you Tom?" Sara crowed, laughing. This broke Bruce, who guffawed, leaning into the corner while Clint blushed, the red flooding his face to his hair line. It was only the truth as far as Clint was concerned, even if more than half the time, Bruce enabled or encouraged him.

"They'll behave Sara. I'll tell'em the rules," Tommy said, chortling.

"You do that, darling. Now, drinks?" Sara wanted to know. The boys ordered tea for themselves, Tommy a diet Coke, and she left them to go fill their plates.

"Rules?" Clint wanted to know before they reached the buffet line.

"Simple really. No shifting, some of the wait staff are norms. Take only what you can eat, and eat like a human."  
"Ah, no problem," Clint shrugged and they went off to mull over the offerings.

They dived into home town favorites like chicken fried steak with rice, chicken and dumplings, beef stew and the like. Sara had brought over positively huge glasses of iced tea and diet Coke.

"Damn," Clint swore, after gulping half of his drink. It was Southern sweet, and he hadn't even specified. "How do we keep her around?"

"Ha! Nope, she, and her mate, stay here. Everett must be at the farm today," Tommy replied, laughing between bites of sinful fried chicken.

"Farm food? Dear Lord, it's heaven. Gotta wrangle a reassignment, whatcha think Bruce?" Clint mock swooned into Bruce's side, chewing on a piece of his chicken fried steak.

"I can see the appeal," he teased, glancing at Clint, who just laughed. "Think someone will just to visit more often if they enjoy this place," Bruce offered, giving Clint a quick kiss on the nose.

"Will have to see what I can arrange then," Clint agreed, sitting upright to finish his plate.

"You two will make it permanent then?" Tommy wanted to know.

"I think this mission will see us settle that out," Bruce equivocated. Clint shrugged. They'd tossed the idea back and forth for the last couple of years, but something held them back. The others just knew not to horn in on their pairing, or try to break them up.

"When's the next shifter gather within SHIELD, or at Carson's?" was Tommy's next question. His voice was loaded with worry.

"Not sure about SHIELD. The Carson gather is in June, I think?" Clint lifted one shoulder. He couldn't even swear he'd know exactly where the circus would be then.

"The usual call will go out, right?" Tommy pressed.

"Yep, I'll send it out, if I'm not on a mission," Clint assured him.

"I'll make sure you know when the gather is, Tommy. I work in Berkeley these days, not for SHIELD," Bruce offered, putting their empty plates in a stack at the end of the table.

"Is Carson taking on any more kids?" Tommy asked next. Clint and Bruce both froze and looked at the other shifter, trying to determine what was wrong.

"Tommy, what's going on?" Bruce asked quietly.

Tommy looked around the restaurant, saw Sara darting glances their way and waved her over. She nervously sat down next to the guard, hands fidgeting atop the table.

"Guys, we've had a lot of awakenings in the area, recently. Sara and Everett are doing what they can, but these kids need to get out of here," he explained, voice low and intense.

"Tom's right. For some reason, we have at least 10 kids at the farm now, all newly awakened and scared out of their minds because their families up and turned on 'em. Everett's doing what he can, but he's only one person. You know what it was like, don't you?" Sara pled her case, her eyes threatening tears.

"We can't promise anything right now, Ms. Sara," Clint began, nervous himself. He didn't want to disappoint these people, but he couldn't make false or empty promises. "Bruce and I are headed east tonight, on a mission that has an indefinite run time on it. Do you understand what that means?" he had to be upfront with her. She shook her head. "We'd be gone anywhere from a few days to a few months. That doesn't help you right now," Clint explained, and winced as her face fell.

"Wait a moment, Clint," Bruce broke his silence. Greta had murmured in his ear the beginnings of an idea. He reached for his bag, and pulled out the tablet, thumbing it on.

"Yes, just as Greta mentioned. SHIELD's got several shifter agents on downtime, some medical, others just required. We have an idea," Bruce looked at the others. Sara and Tommy had cautiously hopeful looks on their faces, and Clint just looked wary. What was Bruce going to get them into?

Clint whispered quietly to the others, "Greta is Bruce's assistant." He didn't want to expose the AI to outsiders, even if they were shifters.

"Clint, text these agents, ask them if they want to rattle around their barracks or get some REAL rest," the emphasis was clear, "and help us out in the mean time?" Bruce showed his lover the list of names and Clint pulled out his phone. He quickly assembled the contact list and sent out a short message asking for help. Bruce smiled his thanks then turned back to the tablet.

"Okay, here's the thing. The worst cases ought to go to Carson, the others just need to start over, correct? How old are these kids?" Bruce rattled off, fingers moving fairly quickly over the tablet as he confirmed the nucleus of his mad scheme with his AI.

Sara leaned forward, "Of the 10, three truly need this Carson, if he is what Tom says he is."

Clint chuckled, "Carson is less a single entity, and more a complex organization. Tom came from a half home, so didn't need Carson's tender mercies to give him a lift."

"Don't forget to contact Stella, Clint, she'll need the heads up," Bruce said, distractedly. Stella was the current head of the Carson group, one of the old man's daughters.

He had Greta commanding the small bevy of robots he had in the house to clean up and refresh the place. The AI also put in an order with the grocer in town, for delivery in the next two days, as well as a rush online order to a camping outfitter. The house didn't have enough space, so a few of the Agents and kids would have to camp in the backyard.

"All right," Bruce said, looking up from his quick work. "The other seven can go to my place in Hollister." Clint was surprised, that place was his sanctuary. "The agents can meet the kids there, or, more preferred, pick them up here. Tommy, we'll need you to coordinate all this, we cannot miss this plane tonight." Bruce was firm. Tommy accepted with a grin and head bob.

"Sure, yeah, I can do this. Clint, send me the names of who you contacted, I can set up a conference call to explain everything," Tommy shook off his own surprise. He'd hoped he could help Sara and Everett, but this was way beyond anything he ever thought to expect.

"We can keep two of the kids. They are orphans from Half Moon Bay," Sara whispered, nearly overcome. This was a miracle.

"No, don't do this through SHIELD," Bruce growled, not quite angry, but tense. Clint and Tommy shared a look. Clint would get to the bottom of that issue later. "Sara, do you have a computer here?" She nodded. "Good. If we can, we'll Skype with everyone, including your mate. Clint?"

"Yeah, I'll text them again, how long?" They snapped together like the well oiled machine they were.

"Say, an hour?" Bruce glanced at Sara for confirmation, that he got with an ear to ear grin from the woman. "Good. Tommy, see if you can get some time off, at least a week, preferably a month. Clint, I've emailed Stella." The archer nodded, glad to have that off his plate. Bruce reached diagonally across the table to take one of Sara's hands in his. With a gentle squeeze, he reassured her. "This is easy. Just think of the Underground Railroad, for the 21st Century," he said, laughter in his voice and eyes. The tears finally fell from her eyes as she whispered her thank to the two new friends she was gifted that day.

Within that hour, Bruce and Clint had organized a pick up of five of the kids by a team of shifter Agents on leave. Tommy was to meet them at the diner later that night, and give them directions and passcodes to Bruce's place in Hollister where they'd stay for the length of time they had left of their leave or until other arrangements had been made. Stella had responded and said she could send out a retrieval team in the next day or so to get the three Sara had mentioned were too young. Clint made arrangements for one of the on leave Agents to drive the Mustang back to Hollister. Before they left, Bruce gifted Sara and Everett with a check to help offset the costs they'd incurred with accepting the awakened children, and left a tablet for her to contact him in the future.

They made their way back to SHIELD's office, and simply prayed the kids would readjust in their new environments.

* * *

AN: Just so we're clear, I'm still setting up this world, and it's an incredible work in progress. Characterizations might change a bit as we get into this. Bear with me! (HAH)


	5. Chapter 5

Draw the Veil Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Just building a whole new world in my sandbox. I do not own anything recognizable as Avengers, or the Marvel Universe.

* * *

Bruce and Clint returned to the building housing SHIELD to pick up where they had left off, getting ready for the trip to New York. They badged their way down to the onsite shooting range and Clint signed out a Glock and box of ammo for the pair of them.

"C'mon old bear, let's see if you can still shoot straight," he teased, waving Bruce down the firing line. He picked a lane, and put the gun and ammo on the arming shelf. "Here, use these for ear protection while I scare up safety glasses," he told the professor, pulling out stubby looking ear plugs that are at once squishy and dense. Bruce took a pair and after pulling his earpiece out, seated each plug in an ear. Sound is immediately and completely cut off, which startles him. He pulls one back out.

"Damn. What the hell are these made with?" he wondered, staring intently at the dense foam pinched between finger and thumb.

Clint laughed, "No idea. It's Starktech, and all I know is that our R&D kids got the design approved without blowing cover on dozens of us. Not even the most sensitive hearing is affected with those in. And, there's other models we can use in the field." He rambled, happy about this piece of technology. It would make Bruce jealous, but logically, it kept his hawk safe, so jealousy didn't enter into the picture, much.

"Huh, interesting. This Stark is quite the guy to get you all hot and bothered with new tech toys," Bruce teased right back, one corner of his mouth lifting in a daring smirk.

"Hah, right! Tech that keeps my feathered ass in one piece for you is the most important thing!" Clint laughed, brushing up against the other man. "Now, do you recall our old hand signals?" Clint had 2 pair of safety glasses in hand, giving one to Bruce. The bear lifted the pair over his own spectacles, and followed Clint back to the firing line and their shooting lane.

They practice with the Glock until the ammo runs out, silence between them except for the bark of the gun. Signals and words exchanged via the flash of fingers, the twist of hands as they tease and harass each other about their shooting styles. Clint is almost lazy in his perfection, shots squeezed off indolently, without care to any consideration for aiming. He always hits what he aims at, be it the bull's eye or any other spot on the target. He challenged Bruce to match him, and then, cheated. Distracted, Bruce did what he could, but aside from matching the bull's eye shot, every successive shot is off. Clint laughed as he growled good naturedly, and promised retaliation.

Done with firing practice, they leave the range, returning the borrowed gun with quiet thanks. Together, they head to the roof, at Bruce's insistence.

"Okay, what's so hush hush we had to come up here?" Clint asked, as soon as the fire door is latched behind them. He can get them back in, no problem. They settled against the edge of the short wall that acted as a sort of safety barrier, backs to the setting sun.

"Because I needed the privacy to show you this," Bruce tucked his left hand into his ever present ruck sack and came back with a flat, silver-black disk, 4" in diameter.

"And this is?" Clint asked, curious, eyes firmly on the disk. He wondered which of the many vague projects he remembered from previous visits to see Bruce this one could be.

"Hm, let's see. Greta? I'd like the plans and examples for Clint's arrows please," he holds onto the edge of the disk and watched Clint's face in quiet bemusement. It's a study in astonishment as Clint's eyebrows make tracks to his hairline.

The disk expanded to easily 4 times its size, and started to glow a greenish white. There was a slight odor emanating from the disk, something Clint recognized as being unique about Bruce's lab. Not quite "wet bear smell", but an earthy muskiness that was always synonymous with the bear.

"Of course, Bruce, right away." Clint hears echoingly through the disk. His eyes are comically wide.

"You did it?" he queried, nearly breathless, a surge of excitement bubbling up in his chest.

"Watch," Bruce commanded with a whisper. The glow intensified, shifting spectrum to blue.

Soon, objects begin to emerge through the disk. A roll of papers, and a sheaf of arrows emerge and Bruce waves at Clint to catch the items. "They will fall if you don't catch them," Bruce gently admonished, startling Clint into movement. He reached forward and grasped the items, crushing the arrows into the roll of paper.

"God, Banner, you thought you'd never get this stable," Clint breathed, tugging on the materials. They came forward easily, no discernible hesitation that Clint could detect.

"I know. So far, the field only generates on the local. Taking it on this mission is a chance for field tests I've not had yet," Bruce replied, a satisfied smile curling his lips.

"How did it balance against the Earth's polarity?" Clint wanted to know, even as he handled each arrow with care, checking the construction, the fletching, the heads. He found no flaws, as he knew would be the case. He can hear Bruce rambling about the magnetics involved in the transporter and understands half of it. Clint is no slouch, but he didn't excel in the sciences like Bruce did. It's enough for him to help, as he can.

"The possibilities, Bruce!" Clint wondered.

"Ah, limited. I can't move organic material through. Crisped every plant I tried, and when I attempted a single mouse, well," Bruce is a little green on that memory. Must have been particularly bad. Bruce actually liked the mice he kept in the lab. They were given to him as a joke, by Clint, who insisted at the time 'what lab is without lab rats', while assembling an elaborate habitat. Clint wondered if Bruce had even chosen one of those mice, or had just captured a wild one.* "I even tried non-living organic material. Flash fried, all of it," he admitted glumly.

"Well, you'll either figure it out, or it won't be important," Clint shrugged and Bruce just laughs. Working with Clint is invigorating and enlightening, and always leaves him with more ideas than he knows what to do with.

"All right, enough of the transporter, the arrows?" Bruce redirected Clint's attention.

"Oh, they look fine. The range captain here won't let me use my bow, so testing them will have to wait until we get to the Helicarrier," Clint rambled a little, looking over the half dozen shafts in his hands.

"Hm. The plans there have improvements for various designs we've discussed," Bruce pointed at the ignored roll.

Clint put the arrows down on the roof and unrolled the sheaf, revealing detailed schematics for a dozen different types of arrows and specific heads that Clint could definitely use in his line of work.

"Oh damn, fuzzy, these are sweet looking," Clint's voice is overjoyed and deeply shadowed with awe.

"Your R&D folks can go to town. SHIELD can better afford to keep you in gear than I can," Bruce said, offhandedly.

"We're not taking these designs from you. Just, no," Clint shook his head, "We'll get Phil to get a contract on these before the plane leaves tonight," he insisted, neatly rolling them up again.

"Anything else in that nifty bag o'tricks?" Clint wanted to know next.

"A few odds and ends," Bruce hedged. "We can poke over them on the plane. This needed a bit of room and open air," he doesn't need to finish. Better to run that experiment somewhere other than a flying tin can, if wonky magnetics decided to go haywire.

Clint pushed the roll into Bruce's ruck sack, then grabbed the bear scientist by the jaw to soundly kiss him in thanks.

They stay on the roof then, for several hours. Bruce shedding his clothes for the change to let Clint groom his fur. It is likely the last chance they'll have to relax in the face of this looming crisis.

* * *

* - look, I don't want to argue the evils of animal testing. Yes it's a nasty business, but humanity has long held an idea that it is better to test on animals, than on other humans. It is what it is. In the case of this story, that will be the only time it's ever mentioned (I hope).


	6. Chapter 6

Draw the Veil, Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Do not own anything but plot, background, and original characters. Everything recognizable as Avengers belongs, unfortunately, to Marvel, and Disney. I can share my toys though.

* * *

The flight east was a mediocre 6 hours on a chartered Lear jet. The 2 agents and 1 scientist traded a few stories before settling into a discussion of what they were flying towards.

"So we're meeting with the other members of this 'team', Agent Coulson?", Bruce asked Phil. He sat in one of the plush, leather chairs, facing the human male. Clint had the window seat beside Phil.

Phil's head dipped once as he replied, "Yes. Agent Romanoff, 2 humans, and one alien professing to be a God. Your tablet ought to have dossiers on them by now, though past experience with Romanoff should give you adequate info. The others," Phil indicated Bruce's tablet, held loosely in his hand, "Well, you've got Stark, God help you."

Clint sniggered, and takes up the discussion, "Stark built himself a power armor, if you can believe it. The other man is Steve Rogers." And Clint waits for it.

Bruce speed reads the appropriately labeled dossier, blinks and then looks at the 2 agents, "You're kidding?" They both shake their heads in the negative. "Holy crap! Captain America, seriously?!", Bruce was shocked. Finding Steve Rogers had been something of a legend around the 'water cooler' at SHIELD. Most agents had been of the strenuous opinion that he'd never be found, that he was well and truly dead.

Clint laughed, tipping his head back to expose the lean column of his neck. The sound is loud in the small, nearly empty plane, but he didn't care, "You should have seen Fan Boy's reaction," he chortled, indicating his handler. Phil blushed faintly in embarrasment, making Clint laugh harder, "He stalked poor Rogers the first week he was awake, AND watched while the Sci geeks defrosted him."

"I told them that mock 40s set up was a bad idea," Phil muttered, ducking his head. Bruce laughed at that.

"Sounds like a story to me," he said, grinning.

"Oh yes, definitely," Clint chortled, daring Phil to explain himself.

"After we go over the rest of this, Barton," Phil attempted to return to professionalism. The others attempted to regain control of themselves. It was mostly successful.

"So, Nat, Capt. America, Stark. Who else? An alien?" Bruce queried, a little surprised at that information.

"Oh Thor, yeah...He's special. Crashed on Earth in New Mexico, what, 6 months ago?" Clint looked at Phil for confirmation.

Phil nodded, "Yes, the Puente Antiguo mess. A hammer crashes to earth, bringing a monsoon with it, the likes of which hadn't been seen in 100 years, in that area. Then this huge, over muscled Scandinavian puts in an appearance, and fights his way through rank of SHIELD agents."

Clint interrupted, "And some of the strongest shifters! Dude's crazy powerful even without the 'mantle of his powers'. Damned impressive." The air quotes had Bruce smiling.

"Wow, must have been a hell of a party," he whistled, surprised.

"It was. I ended up rooting for him before he tried for the hammer," Clint admitted, leaving out the part where he'd been required to hold a kill shot on the alien.

"What happened?" Bruce wanted to know, leaning forward in his seat, tablet clutched between his hands.

"As he explained later, he wasn't worthy of the mighty Mjolnir. To me, it just looked like all the muscles in the world wouldn't be enough to aid him," Clint stated.

"Mhm. If you know anything about Norse legends, one has to be, as Barton said, 'worthy' of the hammer. Though Thor has not been able to explain just how the hammer knows," Phil added.

"Huh. I did read the sagas in college, but don't remember much. Guess I'll have to make time to refresh my memory," Bruce admitted, making a separate note on the tablet he held. "And then the rest of us. Are we going to blow the secret? Or paint ourselves as 'special'?" Bruce looked at the man he considered his. Clint stared back steadily, not having much to add to the conversation. He'd either be exposed, or not, depending on the directives of SHIELD.

Phil allowed, "SHIELD's position is that we tell the team. The organization as a whole, is not going to reveal itself, but you 3 are different."

"And if any of us end up on the news?" Bruce worried. It would be bad news for shifters as a whole.

"We'll deal with it when and if it happens," Phil promised. Bruce nodded and went back to reading the files he had. It wasn't a perfect answer, but then, there couldn't be for this situation.

The rest of the trip passed quietly. Clint fell asleep, tucked into his chair. Phil and Bruce finished their reading, Bruce asking the occasional question for clarity. The updated file on the nuclear threat didn't really have anything of substance for Bruce's preferences.

The jet landed at a small airport in Linden*, where Phil assures Bruce that a chopper is waiting to get them to the Helicarrier. As soon as the jet has taxied to a stop outside a hangar, Clint is awake and stretching in his seat, rubbing his eyes clear of sleep.

"We there yet?" he quipped, standing and reaching for his pack lumped with Bruce's rucksack in the seat next to Bruce. "Oh hey, Bruce? I just thought of something we could do to "introduce" shifters to the others," he added, a particular glint in his eye as he stared at his lover.

"Oh?" Bruce looked over, from stuffing his tablet back in his own bag. He saw the hawk's face, and instantly caught on. He started to smile, a mischievous thing that promised Phil a headache.

"Oh dammit, Barton. What are you thinking?" Phil demanded, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nothing doing, Coulson. I promise we won't cause too much trouble, or create an excess of paperwork," Clint mock glared at his handler, warning him off.

"Just try not to cause too much havoc this time Barton, please? Otherwise Fury is sure to pop a blood vessel," Phil's eyes crinkled at the corners, his only outward sign of amusement at his asset's mischievous nature. Most of Clint's pranks are harmless, as he reserves the less harmless ones for those that deserved them. Bruce just adds fuel to the prankster's fires, and there's no reasoning with the bear.

Phil turned his back on the pair, to let them collaborate, and went to speak to the pilots of the Lear. He had arranged for the pilot's and co-pilot's payment for the trip, and made sure they'd be taken care of by SHIELD agents.

"Here's the idea. We'll get a junior agent to take our gear to our rooms, and I'm going to join the meeting in my hawk shape. You know Nat will try something, it's her nature," Clint grinned, "Rogers will call the roll, too military to do otherwise. You just get to agree that I am in fact, in the room. Do that smug thing you do so well."

"Heh, all right. Here, give me these," Bruce took the sunglasses off Clint's shirt collar, where they'd hung since the trio had left California, and placed them in his rucksack. He also took Clint's sealed quiver, knowing the other man would not want someone else to handle his weapon. "If we thought you wouldn't need to transform back before the end of the meeting, I'd say go buff. But I'm sure Capt. Rogers will demand the change. Best to keep your clothes, this time."

They laughed at the idea. Later, when the team was able to handle such shocks, they could be more blasé about changing their human skins out for their animal ones.

Clint sobered and said, "I'll change before we land on the carrier. You'll have to keep me from being blown off the side though."

Bruce agreed and they rejoined Phil, who was finished with the pilots. The trio left the Lear and headed across bare tarmac to a building emblazoned with SHIELD's black eagle logo. Once inside, Phil peeled off to check the status of their departure time for the trip to the Helicarrier. The others found a waiting room and did exactly that. Phil rejoined them only minutes later.

"Chopper leaves in 10, gentlemen," he informed them as he stepped into the room.

"Time to hit the head then," Clint bounced out of his chair to go find the facilities.

Bruce shook his head and polished off the bottle of water he'd been drinking. He grabbed another pair of bottles from the sideboard and walked over to Coulson. "Juvenile. He'll never grow up," he told the agent.

"You wouldn't have it any other way, you know," Phil quipped back.

"Nor you. Can't tell me you'd prefer he 'mend his wicked ways' and fly the straight and narrow," Bruce replied, a touch of laughter in his voice.

"If he tried that, he'd be dragged to Medical so fast," Phil shook his head in silent laughter, "No, if he straightened up to act like everyone else, it'd be no worse than if we'd clipped his wings and caged him."

"Hm, yes, exactly. Think I'll keep him as is," Bruce confirmed. Phil smiled.

They boarded the chopper, which quickly lifted into the sky for the 45 min ride out to the Helicarrier floating off Staten Island's eastern side.

As the chopper came in to a landing near the Con Tower, Clint winked at Bruce, slid off the headset and shifted. His features narrowed as his nose and mouth blurred and elongated into a sharp, wickedly hooked, black beak. His shoulders immediately sprouted feathers as his arms shifted to the angular pinions more common to the Harris Hawk.

"That never ceases to amaze me," Phil said into his microphone, not a little awed.

The hawk hopped from his seat on the bench opposite from Phil and Bruce, into Bruce's arms, deadly claws clamped tight to avoid cutting up the bear's arms. Bruce caught him neatly and avoided crushing or breaking any feathers.

"Ah, forgot a falconer's glove. Greta?" Bruce called to his AI. The reply flashed across the right lens of his glasses. _I will try, Bruce._ The first true test of his transporter.

He cradled Clint in his lap, trying to figure out an alternative. His shirt wouldn't be much protection, though a sweater would add one layer. Probably still not enough.

"We could try a shoulder holster*?" Phil offered.

"That might work, if we can put extra padding on it. I'll just hold him like this until we get inside," Bruce agreed, just as the chopper set down. As the machine settled, he unclipped his harness, and leaned out and around Phil, to drop his and Clint's bags to the deck. He carefully slides across the bench seat after Phil jumps out, so he can also drop to the deck. Holding Clint like a baby, Bruce heads into the Con Tower, letting a junior agent; shifter, his nose told him; grab their duffels.

"Take those to Agent Barton's room, please," he requested, heading further into the interior of the carrier, barely looking back or waiting for a reply. Coulson, completely armored in his Handler persona, strides before him, leading the way to the conference room. Phil briefly speaks into a handset he had been handed by the self same junior, requesting someone bring them a shoulder holster, or something a bird of prey could perch on.

They are met 100 yards from the conference room by another junior agent. This one carried a thick, black glove that was immediately offered to Bruce once the professor got closer. Bruce slipped it onto his left hand, and Clint was able to perch there more comfortably. The hawk fluffed his feathers, smoothing them down in short order. A head bob reassured Bruce that no feathers were harmed.

"Thanks," Bruce told the junior agent. He received a half completed salute before the agent remember Bruce wasn't a fully vetted member of SHIELD. Bruce just smiled benignly at the young man, and went on his way.

They got to the door of the conference room, where Nat was talking with two men who matched the mug shots provided in Bruce's intelligence reports of Steve Rogers and Thor Odinson. The trio are studiously ignoring a bored looking Tony Stark, who is seemingly absorbed in a redesign of the carrier's engines. In relaity, he is idly flipping through random security camera feeds that he's hacked via his own AI.

"This terrorist cell, you believe it's based on religion?" Steve asked, clearly upset by the idea. He'd hoped for better, in the past 70 years.

"Yes, our own, home grown, Pro-Christian militant groups," Nat explained with distaste. She suddenly cocked her head to one side, as if listening for something. Her nostrils flared a tiny bit, as though she detected a scent she couldn't quite pin down. Steve echoed her actions, serum enhanced senses catching the cadence of shoes on the bulkheads outside, and the scents of animals. The smell is incredibly confusing, as Steve would swear to anyone who asked, he's smelled the scents of several types of wild animals since joining SHIELD. In some cases, it is really strong, nearly overpowering, in others, barely a whiff is detectable. He wanted to ask if folks really had tigers and boar for pets, amongst the usual lizards, birds, and dogs. Most of the time, he simply ignores it, as 'strange perfume', but he'd definitely prefer answers.

Their backs are to the open door, so no one realized they had company until Stark exclaimed. "Holy shit! A falconer? I thought you were getting us a scientist, Agent, not Bird Boy," he waved a hand in Bruce's direction. Bruce just smiled a private, knowing smile. Tony's eyes squinted, he could practically hear "I have a secret!" being screamed at him. His fingers danced over his tablet, dismissing the engine blueprints, and the camera footage, to text his AI to see if he could figure out what was going on.

Nat quickly spun in place, face instantly transforming from blank stoicism to gleeful happiness as she launched herself across the room, straight at the professor bearing a hawk on his shoulder. Her own body blurred, taking on an indistinct, vague appearance, shrinking and twisting as she took on her animal form. Tony shouted wordlessly from the shock, falling back in his chair, and forcefully pushing away from the table. She was now a ruddy colored cat, perched happily in Bruce's arms, purring loudly and rubbing her face all over his cheeks and jaw.

Tony regained his sense, and cursed, "What the hell is she? Mutant? Demon? The hell is this about, Agent?" He certainly wasn't calm, and Nat and the bird both hissed at him, expressing their thoughts on his anxiety and aggression. Bruce could tell how freaked out he was, sitting with a white knuckled grip on the arms of his chair. Shifting his gaze to the others in the room, he finds Capt. Rogers backed into a corner, shield held before him defensively, which made him snort in amusement.

Thor, however, had the most interesting reaction. That is, barely one at all. He mostly looked amused by the proceedings.

"Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers, please. Let's everyone just calm down," Bruce began, while petting Nat. She squirmed out of his hold enough to raise a fore paw to the hawk sitting quietly on Bruce's shoulder. Steve and Tony held their collective breaths when the bird's attention shifted to the feline. The hawk let out a small series of squawks and chirps, lowering its head towards the cat. Nat responded with a delighted mew, and returned to cuddling with Bruce. He just continued skritching her head, particularly around her ears and under her chin. Thor quietly chuckled, able to understand the various sounds as words, thanks to the Allspeak.

"Agent Coulson, just what is going on here?" Steve asked, completely at a loss.

"Ah, you Midgardians still have Berserkers! This is a grand thing," Thor boomed as he moved forward to greet Bruce. Clint tried not to shriek at the sound, and ended up hiding his face in Bruce's curls. "Your hawk is a handsome fellow, good sir," he rumbled, offering his hand to Nat, reminding her of his particular scent. She trilled and rubbed his hand in acceptance.

"Thank you. I think he's quite a looker. I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, physicist," Bruce agreed, throwing a small dig at Tony in his introduction of himself. He figured out Tony hadn't read any background information on this team. He reached a hand up to gently run fingers through Clint's breast feathers. Clint responded by preening some of Bruce's hair. "Nat, why don't you rejoin us, so we can discuss this like sensible animals?" Bruce requested of the assassin still purring in his crooked arm.

Tony watched in avid curiosity, and could swear the bird was acting bashful, and the cat lady was 'making biscuits' on Bird Boy's arm. His eyes had comically rounded as he processed the info of Bruce's introduction.

"Come, sit. Let us discuss this as sentient beings!" Thor enjoined, when no one made a move. He suited actions to words, and chose a seat at the conference table.

Bruce tossed Nat into the air, forcing her to change or land unceremoniously on the table. She shifted back to her human skin, landing lightly on her feet and standing straight. She leaned around to peck Bruce on the cheek, and run her fingers through the hawk's feathers before grabbing her own chair. She primly sat down, folding one leg under herself as she settles.

"Well, now that dramatics are out of the way, we can begin," Coulson resumed control.

"Wait a sec, where's Agent Barton?" Steve wanted to know, sitting in the chair closest to him, which happened to be furthest from Bruce and Nat.

"We're all here, Captain, even him," Bruce claimed as he took a seat next to Nat. She met his gaze, and grinned, sharing the secret. Bruce's eyelid barely flickered in a wink as he carefully settled in his chair, attempting to not disturb his hawk.

"How? There should be 7 of us at this meeting, yet I count 6, and a pet bird. Are you sure it's safe?" Steve expressed concern, pointing at the hawk.

"Yes, quite sure. Agent Coulson, please, begin," Bruce exhorted the handler. To those who knew him, Phil was quite amused. The slightly pursed lips, and the usual crinkling around his eyes were dead giveaways.

"Of course, Dr. Banner," he agreed, hands moving over the table's surface to bring up the files he needed on a large projection screen behind him. A SHIELD logo appeared as the first image.

Tony interrupted, "Wait one Goddamned minute. Is someone going to explain Cat Woman? What gives?" His brashness covered his surprise at meeting Bruce.

"Well," Bruce began, "When two people love each other very much." His delivery was so deadpan, the others thought he was serious. Until the hawk startled everyone but him and Nat with an odd choking sound. The next surprise was Nat herself. She was laughing! Agent Romanoff, the feared Black Widow, did not laugh!

Except, she clearly did.

"All right Clint, you've had your fun," Bruce reached up to coax the hawk down from his shoulder. "The good Captain and Mr. Stark are rather confused, and put out." The hawk caressed Bruce's face with it's beak before allowing a transfer to the open seat on Bruce's left. Before the bird had settled, it blurred and became a man again, one bent nearly in half, laughing.

"Oh my God! The best prank in awhile," Clint heaved between guffaws. "Thanks Nat, that was a spectacularly unexpected assist," Clint wheezed at the red head, holding his sides.

Bruce was fondly amused, clearly used to such odd behavior. Thor was also quite amused by the prank, having realized that Clint was more than just a pet. Nat just had a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Steve and Tony were trying to stay calm, but not quite succeeding, with this oddity before them. People, that could turn into animals! Defying the laws of nature!

Tony fairly itched to study one of them, but knew that would be most likely frowned upon. He still tapped out a request to his AI to do some passive scanning of the people in the room for later research.

Steve just shook his head, coming to temporary terms with what he'd just seen. All Steve could do was lock down his curiosity until later.

"All right," Coulson wrapped his knuckles on the table, "If we could get back on task, please?"

Clint sobered, but didn't wipe the smile from his face as he turned to give his attention to his handler. Bruce leaned forward, nearly into Clint's side, and slipped a hand into one of Clint's, squeezing it in appreciation of the joke.

The rest of the team easily gave Coulson their attention as he briefed them on the threat.

* * *

* - Real town in NY!

* - Falconry does not approve of keeping the birds on your shoulders. Would you want that beak anywhere near your eyes? Remember, birds of prey are wild animals, and maintain their instincts.


	7. Chapter 7

Draw the Veil Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Still just playing in the sandbox. Do not own, please don't sue! PS, I do not read spy novels, and this it is not my genre. I'm a sword & sorcery gal, so I 'm way out of my depth. In other news - *sigh* hate to do this, but due to real life issues, I am going to have to drop my posting to once a month. Please see my profile for ways to keep up with me, including Tumblr, Dreamwidth, and Facebook. Thanks!

Warnings: None I can think of. Religious dogma incoming though (not this chapter). PS – This chapter almost did not get released. I started it around the time of the Boston Marathon, and shelved it for a week.

* * *

The briefing covered everything Bruce already knew about the dirty bomb. His tablet rested on the tabletop, recording the bits about the cult. His main attention was focused on the reports of stolen nuclear material and how to find it before it was turned into a bomb. Greta ran down the notations on where radioactive material had been stolen, and acquired the tracker information. That would be important to trying to figure out the cult's movements, and maybe point out targets.

"Dr. Banner?" Phil broke his concentration.

"Yes? What?" Bruce started, looking up from his tablet, fingers frozen in mid-movement.

"Do you have anything for us?" the agent asked, knowing that Bruce tended to move faster when left to his own devices.

Bruce quickly glanced around the table, seeing all eyes on him. Clint shifted minutely beside him. "Assembling tracking information on the stolen material. Should have an update in," Bruce checked the tablet. Greta obliged by flashing an update. "Eight hours."

"Really?" Tony interrupted, sarcasm dripping around the word, "And just how are you accomplishing that with that dinky, market pad?" He sneered at the physicist, who calmly stared back from across the table. He broke Tony's gaze and put his attention back on Phil.

"If you're ready?" he simply asked, though it wasn't directed specifically at Phil. Stark was irritating and it made Bruce twitchy. Phil nodded, and turned the floor over to the bear.

"Right," Bruce briefly looked down at his tablet, "Look, I'm here to help, and I do that best by working largely on my own." He focused on each member of the team in turn. "I have created a tracking program that is shifting through the known signatures of the processing plants that work radioactive minerals. The plants in the US are few in number, so we have to account for the rest of the world," he explained, speaking somewhat slowly as he finally focused Tony. The dig was evident in his explanation.

The engineer snorted, "Still sounds too slow. Ever think of an upgrade in equipment?"

"My equipment works just fine. Yes, Prince Odinsson?", his eyes moved to the large, blonde alien.

"Please, call me Thor, man of science. These trackers you speak of. Do they leave a trail for eyes to see?" Thor queried, curious.

Bruce smiled, a simple upturn in the corners of his mouth, "No, not that we would see. As the ore is processed for use, it is liberally laced with an ingredient that gives off a particular signal. It's proprietary, and altered slightly to be specific to each processor."

"Ah, I believe I understand. Thank you!" Thor rumbled. Bruce nodded, and moved on.

"There are dozens of processing plants to sort and catalog. I'm plenty grateful this is done digitally now!" Bruce nearly slammed a hand to the table in frustration.

"Still don't think it'll take 8 hours," Tony snarked, "Your program is underpowered."

"I'd like to see you do better," Bruce challenged, a snarl forming on his lips. Clint turned to look at him, then slowly reached over to touch his forearm in a calming fashion. This was unexpected. Bruce rarely felt challenged in his work, and this is not a good thing. Third best was patently false, the only thing Bruce disliked about his current job, was dealing with ignorant people in and out of the field. And it looked like he found a whopper. As soon as Clint touched him, Bruce forcibly takes a couple of deep breaths, attempting to calm down.

"Heh, you watch Bird Boy," Tony insulted, "I'll have it done in half the time." He snapped his fingers and bent over his tablet, hands flashing, ignoring everyone for the rest of the meeting.

Phil quickly wrapped up the meeting, "All right, this is what we know. The cult known as the Children of St. Michael has decided that their usual level of terrorism isn't enough anymore. Operatives within the cult have managed to get a supply of Radium, and Americium. We only have a partial idea on where their main base of operations is, as the head family sold their property and relocated. We're attempting to track them now. Dr. Banner is tracking the missing material. Mr. Stark, we need you to help track equipment sales. Anything they'd need to engineer a bomb without trace, or alerting investigative bodies. Agents Romanov and Barton, you will need to finish profiling the leadership. Captain Rogers can assist you. Thor, unfortunately you're on standby as we continue to assess your skills. You've proven your oratorical talent, but our analysts are confident it won't make a difference here." As each person was named and assigned, they nodded acceptance of their duty. Tony simply gave a halfhearted, distracted wave from his seat, still bent over his own tablet.

Steve had one final question before the meeting broke. "Can you explain just what Agents Barton and Romanov, and Dr. Banner are, exactly?"

"That debriefing will occur in a few hours in one of the gyms. You'll be told where, when we're ready. Is that all? Good hunting then," Phil rose from his chair, closing out the computer interface as he did so.

"Dr. Banner, your lab awaits," Romanov invited, standing.

"Thank you. Clint, good luck, and see you later," Bruce also rose, and clapped the archer on the back, all the PDA they'd ever show while inside SHIELD. Only other shifters could determine their relationship. The pair left to head to their tasks.

"Sure, Doc. We'll both be nearby, if needed," he reassured the bear. "Stark, you have your usual lab waiting for you. Try not to blow it up this time," Clint snarked, still a touch uneasy after the engineer challenged his lover.

"Hey, that was one time!" Tony remarked, grabbing his tablet and leaving the room in a huff.

Steve and Thor waited for Clint. The trio left the conference room, and strolled through the halls, heading deeper into the bowels of the carrier until they came to a series of offices.

"Here, this is where we'll be. Thor, you can help us, unless you've got to report somewhere?" Clint pushed open a door and stepped into a large office filled with computers and several stacks of files. Nat was already there, tucked near the back, and seated in front of a computer, typing away from notes seated on top of a pile of folders.

"Nay, I have free time today. What would have me do?" Thor replied, looking at the sea of paper.

Clint contemplated, trying to remember where they'd left off. "Need someone to collate property records. I think Nat needs help combing through education records on the family, Sayles by name," he responded. He showed the two men the separate sections and what each necessary piece looked like, then left them to it. He sat at a separate pile and dug out a legal pad and a pen to keep notes on, as he crawled through the stacks.

The foursome worked silently during the few hours they had until the debriefing in the gym.

* * *

Bruce walked into his old lab on the carrier and turned on the power to the computers. "Greta? You here yet?" he queried, speaking to the air.

"Yes Bruce. I've reestablished myself aboard the Helicarrier's network. The protocols we left still work just fine," Greta's modulated voice came from the speaker nearest Bruce as he called up his searches. "There's another AI making itself known to me. It is not of the carrier normally. How interesting," if she could sound surprised, it would be with that announcement. Bruce absently noted her comment about the second AI.

"Anything important from the meeting I may have missed?" he asked, tabbing through the compiled records of ore processors.

"Agent Coulson gave me a file on the cult. I am presently searching their website archives," she replied.

"Good. We'll work with that as a sideline. We need to know their history, and why they've chosen violence as an acceptable answer to a religious disagreement*. The universities have all answered my query about material they've been shipped, so I'll move on to cancer treatment centers," Bruce evaluated, typing up notes as he went.

"All right. I'll handle the hospitals, then," his AI offered.

* * *

Tony reached his own lab minutes after the meeting broke up.

"JARVIS, talk to me," he commanded of his own AI, dropping the tablet in favor of his holographic interfaces.

"Sir, per your instructions I have begun tracking shipments of concrete, both the materials to make it, and prefabricated pieces. As well as shipments of coolant, rods, piping, and other pertinent materials. I have also added search parameters on bomb making materials," the British voice rolled and dipped as the AI spoke.

"Sounds good. Bird Boy challenged me to find the missing radioactive minerals. Can we allocate resources for that?" Tony replied, distracted by a request to update the coding for new monitoring within the med bay.

"Of course sir. Where would you like me to start looking?" JARVIS asked. He was working on expanding his presence within the Helicarrier's mainframe, and suddenly stumbled across a new awareness. "Sir? Does the Helicarrier have an artificial intelligence?" he asked his creator.

"We didn't give them one," Tony replied, distractedly. He was absorbed in his work, and not really paying attention.

"Thank you, sir," JARVIS sighed. He'd never encountered another AI, and believed himself to be the only one in the world. This presence intrigued him, and he needed to know more about it.

Tony would remain busy until bothered, or called to the next meeting. JARVIS set several alarms in sequence at 30, 15, 10, and 5 minute intervals to remind the man of the gym meeting.

Turning inward, JARVIS let go his search queries, knowing those would take time to gather back anything of use. Tentatively, he queried the other AI, asking basic introductory questions and giving his own designation. The other AI quickly responded, sending the coding of its designation.

They used their divided attention to run all the searches for their creators, as well as making the time to talk with each other. Happy, if such things were possible, to have found another like themselves, for the first time since they came online.

* * *

AN - *Okay, the cult is obviously religious. I am of the opinion that folks can believe whatever they wish, but that one shouldn't force others to believe the same way. As I mentioned in the earlier AN, this chapter almost didn't get published. Not sure what I would have put in it's place, but I probably would have scrapped my antagonists. Religious fervor is a hard thing to deal with, IRL, or otherwise. Please respect my fic and readers by not creating a scene. If you disagree with anything I've written, find that little 'x' button at the top of the window/tab and click on it. Thank you.


	8. Chapter 8

Draw the Veil Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Avengers are not mine, they belong to Disney/Marvel. This incarnation is wholly my own idea.

* * *

When the newly formed team of heroes reconvened, only Bruce had new information to pass along.

"Managed to track 6 potential sources for the Radium is proving harder to track, as I'd feared. Most ore processors have moved on from Americium, making it incredibly easy to track. I am just running down where the last 6 months of shipments have gone," Bruce informed them.

Phil nodded, looking at the corresponding report that Greta had compiled and emailed the agent on Bruce's behalf. "Good start. Now, this meeting is to discuss a newly revealed piece of information. Agents Barton & Romanov, as well as Dr. Banner are not human," Phil began, "If you could step to the side, please, Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, Thor?"

Curious, the three so named moved across the gym's wooden floor and stood near a wall. Bruce, Clint, and Nat stood roughly arm's length apart from each other, and quickly glance at Phil. He nodded, giving them the green light.

Nat shrugged, but triggered her feline form. She shrunk down even as her delicate human face took on the shape of a muzzle and her ears moved up to the top of her head. They twitched continuously as the rest of her form altered itself. The tail that appeared behind her, made Steve and Tony gasp in surprised shock.

"Damn," she heard the engineer mutter. Her form finished, she sat on her haunches and proceeded to wash her face.

As Tony made to move forward to get a closer look, Phil snapped, "Wait". Tony froze in place, eyes comically widened.

Clint went next, quickly shifting back to the hawk they were already familiar with. He made a small squawk and took off from the floor to find a higher perch. By previous agreement, his chosen roost was the nearest piece of equipment, a weight bench with a bar set in place on the supports, rather than the exposed beams overhead.

Tony, Steve, and Thor then turned to look expectantly at Bruce.

"I hate this," he grouched, and willed the change. His change was by far the most dramatic. His body bulked up as if the assembled watched a time lapse video of some body builder. Muscle just rippled into being, as his arms and legs lengthen in odd places, shorten in others. Finger and toe nails darken and rapidly grow out, becoming curved, black scythes. Fur the color of perfect, dark chocolate sprouted everywhere visible. He kept getting larger and larger, towering over even Thor and Steve until at last he slumped forward onto paws the size of small hubcaps. His short snout wriggled as he sniffed the air, cataloging all the scents.

He identified Phil-friend, Nat-friend, and Clint-mate before the new ones reached him. He smelled fear, primarily, and had a hard time separating the fear stench from the men. He moaned, and sank down on his belly, head on his front paws, and eyes dulling in trepidation before slowly closing. He huffed a sigh, a sharp, deep note that moved Thor's cape from the strength.

"God, what the hell kind of bear is that?" Tony's voice is soft in an odd way. He was awed by the sheer impressive size of Banner, but this? He's nervous just being around it. But when the huge bear just sort of, made this completely depressed noise, Tony checked his thinking. He wondered if Banner had any problems with his animal self.

"Sir?" JARVIS chirped through his earpiece. Monitored vitals had spiked briefly, and high enough to warrant a check-in. Tony absently touched the earpiece seat in his right ear.

"Yeah, J. I'm fine. Scan the animal in front of me and see if it matches any mammalian databases?" he reassured the AI.

"Don't bother Stark. The good doctor doesn't exist in zoological listings. Nat? Join Bruce please," Phil sighed at Tony, and called the ruddy colored cat's attention to himself. She nodded and leapt for Bruce's broad back from her spot on the mat. The bear didn't even grunt at her presence as she settled into his fur and warmth.

"What do you mean, Agent Coulson? What kind of bear is he?" Rogers asked, perplexed. He stayed still, a frown marring his face.

"And the rest of them?" Tony looked up at Phil, anxiety warring with curiosity across his own face.

"Agent Romanov is an Abyssinian, well suited to infiltration." Nat meowed in agreement. That brought more shocks to the two humans. It appeared that she knew she was being spoken of. Thor just grinned from his place on the wall, before moving forward to greet his companions all over again.

"Agent Barton is a Harris Hawk, best suited to long range reconnaissance." Clint screeched, and hopped off the weight bench to fly to the bear and settle next to Nat. He began preening the bear's fur, attempting to settle the great animal. Nat purred at them both, eyes half open as though she was moments away from falling asleep.

"Dr. Banner is Ursus spelaeus, the long extinct cave bear." Bruce laid there, trying to ignore the scent of fear still permeating the gym. While normally able to enjoy Clint's attentions, he was just too uncomfortable in the presence of the rest of the team to find his usual solace in the actions.

"Damn. And what use is Bruce like that?" Tony wanted to know.

"Mostly as a fighter. But we try not to ask him to do that when he consults with us," Phil replied.

Bruce finally had enough and stood, making the pair of agents on his back tighten their clawed grips. Clint mantled, offering a soft squawk of protest. Nat could only hang on, claws dug into the hide, making Bruce's skin twitch.

"What's wrong with Dr. Banner?" Steve asked, restraining himself from reaching for his ever present shield. Tony backed up away from the bear until he hit the wall. Thor slowly bent down to rest his hammer on the ground before finishing his approach to the trio.

"This is a great gift," he spoke quietly, using the tone of his voice to try and calm Bruce, "You are all beautiful specimens of your totems. I am proud to fight by your side." He got within a foot of Bruce, allowing the bear to take in his specific scent, which easily matched what Bruce had already noticed. A taste of wild summer storms, ozone and electricity told Bruce that Thor was as he claimed, not human, and definitely not shifter. He could also detect no sense of fear or apprehension, and it calmed him somewhat. Bruce allowed the Asgardian to move closer until the big blonde could touch the thick ruff Clint was using as a perch. Burying his hands into the fur, Thor gave the large bear a vigorous scratching.

Nat soon left her spot midway down Bruce's back and hit the floor, halfway into her human skin.

"Okay, so I want to know, they keep their clothes every time?" Tony asked, still leaned against the wall.

"Sometimes," Nat began to explain, folding her legs into a lotus position and leaning against Bruce's left foreleg, "Other times, if we are comfortable or have the time, we'll shift without. No one's yet figured out how it happens." Bruce's head came around and shoved her sideways with his blunt snout. He then took a couple of steps back from Thor, shook his shoulders to dislodge Clint, who squawked protest, and shifted back to his own, rumpled skin. Clint shifted shortly after, to the sound of Bruce's sneezing.

When he finally stopped, he looked at Phil and said, "I'm sorry, I need to go back to my lab." And he scuttled out the gym door. The team shared confused looks, save Clint who sighed and scrubbed a hand through his short, spiky brown hair.

"He hates it when new people first meet the bear," he said quietly. "Folks are afraid because of his size, and plain just don't know anything about bears, much less him! I'll go to him."

"No Barton, let me. I need to apologize," Tony suddenly moved, finding courage at last, coming off the wall and heading across the gym floor at an amble.

He left the gym, hearing Rogers ask how SHIELD expected the team to train like that, and headed towards his own lab.

"J, find out where Banner's hiding," he commanded.

"At once, sir. Also, the search for any missing radioactive material has been stonewalled," the AI replied briskly in his earpiece.

"Huh, see if you can get around it, J," Tony told the AI.

"Dr. Banner is in Lab 6, level 4, sir. The locks are engaged, indicative of safety protocols."

"Duly noted," he snarked, jumping down a flight of stairs to reach the next level. He strode with purpose down the hall, ignoring agents that populated his path, and stared as he passed.

He found Banner in his lab, gesticulating in a grand manner as he spoke to someone out of Tony's line of sight.

"JARVIS, pop the lock," Tony said, laying a hand on the door. He waited far longer than he ought, with JARVIS in the carrier's intranet. "JARVIS?"

"My apologies sir, I cannot access this lab," the AI whispered, as though afraid to admit his failing. It was rare that JARVIS could not access something, part of a system he was established in. The half expected explosion from his creator didn't materialize. Tony stood in front of the lab door, confused and contemplating the man on the other side.

"Really? What could Banner be working on that requires a lock even you can't get open?" Tony wondered, tapping his fingers against his bearded chin as he thought.

On the other side of the glass door, Bruce flinched to a halt, and slowly turned around to see Tony staring boldly back. With a visible change of posture, his mouth closing, hands dropping to the counter top and his shoulders slumping, Bruce allowed the door to unlock.

"Don't just stand in the corridor, Stark," he said, voice projected via intercom to the hall.


	9. Chapter 9

Draw the Veil Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Do not own anyone called an Avenger, they (unfortunately) belong to Disney-Marvel. Everything else is mine. TW: Mention of the word whore, not in context to promiscuous behavior.

* * *

Tony entered the bear's den, some primal part of his brain expressing a certain fear of "bearding the lion". Fortunately, Bruce appeared relatively calm and controlled as he walked through the blast doors.

"Hey Banner, um...Look, that was uncalled for, earlier," he scrubbed at the back of his neck, uncomfortable. It needed to be done. Something about this situation had him distinctly upset, and he needed to fix it, quickly.

"Look, Stark, forget about it. You and I are worth something to this team. We're going to have to work to our strengths, and do it together."

"Bruce," his AI interrupted, startling Tony. "I have more information available on the Radium."

"Excellent, let's see it," Bruce turned his back on Tony to find the nearest screen. That glass pane flickered to life, displaying a tracking graph of locations and shipments of the element in question. "Hm, looks like..." Bruce scanned the records, "Yes, here. Greta, highlight this," Bruce touched the screen in a couple of places, indicating the spread of info he needed. It obligingly lit up. "Good, transfer to Phil, with the message, 'Think that is what we're looking for.' Then drop a note to the medical center, asking after their supplier."

"At once," Greta confirmed.

Tony looked around the lab for the woman, and, when he didn't find anyone, rapidly put 2 and 2 together. "Well, hot damn. I'm not the only one with an AI around here." Respect colored his tone as he relaxed against a work table, hips canted, one foot leaning against the ankle of the other.

Bruce threw a bit of a shit-eating grin over a shoulder, "Well, programming an independent system was child's play really."

"Ooh, sarcasm! I like!" Tony said, an open grin spreading across his face, lighting up the brown eyes and increasing the minute lines surrounding.

Bruce laughed, more at ease with the industrialist with every passing moment. "We probably need to have a meeting, but I'll leave it up to Phil to finalize. How goes the work on finding the equipment they'd need to keep the material?" he asked, checking his algorithms that were tracking errant radiation spikes. His hands moved over the glass screen in an intricate ballet. Tony found it hypnotizing, and not a little exciting to watch.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Well, I'd show you, but my AI" he grinned, "Can't gain access to your lab."

"Oh really now? Greta, would you make room for Mr. Stark's companion?" he addressed his creation.

"Already done, Bruce," the lilting voice intrigued Tony. He wanted to ask questions, but they were trying to stop terrorists. As easily distracted as he was, he didn't have the heart to pester the other man right then. They could geek out later.

"Thank you Doctor Banner. A pleasure to work with you," JARVIS piped in.

"Hey J, where are we with digging through those equipment lists?" Tony asked, moving over to an unused window. The current progress flashed onto the screen, allowing Tony to track the reports JARVIS had created. He made motions to highlight a few sections and began a fresh report to Coulson.

They worked in reasonably companionable silence for about an hour, before Tony's curiosity got the better of him. He swiped his screen clear, knowing JARVIS saved everything.

"So, this Lon Chaney thing," he said, openly staring through the glass at Bruce's back.

"Junior" Bruce quipped, not even turning around.

"What?"

"It was Chaney Jr who played the Wolf Man*, not his father."

"And this is relevant?"

"If you want it to be, it is. Just thought you'd want to know." Bruce kept on managing the scroll of information in front of him.

"Okay Mr Movie News, thanks for that...but seriously, this shifting?" Tony pressed.

Bruce sighed, and saved the progress he'd made. He turned around to look at the other man, pulling his glasses off. "What do you want to know?" This conversation was inevitable, and he wondered if the others were dealing with the same.

"Everything," Tony said, a particular gleam in his eye. For those who knew the man, that gleam spoke of his overwhelming need for knowledge. It looked to Bruce like the light of avarice, a demanding desire for all knowledge. He was a little afraid of what this man could do with the Pandora's Box he wanted to unlock. The most Bruce knew of Tony Stark, was that he was the head of a former arms manufacturer. Only recently had they stopped those lines, and increased the work on green energy, medical tech, and personal tech.

"I see. Well, let's get a cup of coffee and get comfortable back here, all right?"

"Sure," Tony stood to make his way back to the door. Bruce grabbed up an ear piece to stay in contact with Greta on his way out the door.

They found the canteen, made their own cups of coffee, and wandered back to the lab to talk. Sitting on the most comfortable chairs in the room, they sipped their coffee in silence, Bruce nervously girding his loins. Not fifteen minutes after returning, his nostrils flare, catching a beloved scent.

"Clint, come down already," he growled, not even angry, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Tony is surprised. There had been no indication of the archer's presence in the ventilation shafts.

The metal rattled dramatically as Clint shifted, moving towards another vent away from their seats. He removed the vent cover and slithered out of the duct and onto the floor.

"So Feathers, what brings you here?" Bruce asked his lover. Clint was not in the habit of haunting the ducts unless he needed to be there.

"You," was Clint's immediate answer, "And training in an hour. Nat has the boys shifting through paperwork." Clint moved to sit next to Bruce's legs on the floor.

"Ah, more 'are you sure you remember how to fight' from our illustrious leaders. Well, there's no new updates on the tech front, so we're clear. Have you eaten?" Bruce grumbled. He reached out a hand and stroked Clint's hair, lightly scratching. Clint didn't usually demand attention in public, but Bruce never denied him when asked. The archer nodded his head in answer to Bruce's unnecessary question. All consultants had to requalify on their skill sets if they'd been away from SHIELD for more than 3 months.

Tony eyed the pair speculatively, taking note of their closeness. "So, the first time you shift, when does that happen?" he asked.

"Ah, puberty, usually. Unless something forces it," Clint answered, eyes heavy lidded as he enjoyed the feeling of Bruce's strong fingers against his scalp.

"What could cause such a startlingly physiological thing?"

"Trauma of some kind, physical or mental. But oddly enough, sometimes a simple broken bone won't trigger it. Sometimes it's just a broken toe," Clint explained. Bruce hummed agreement.

"In shifter families," Bruce joined the conversation. "It's not unusual for the child to shift early. Still not sure why that happens." He shrugged. He had been studying shifter physiology whenever he had time, but it was imperfect work.

"Huh. How long has this species been around," Tony wanted to know.

"Forever, so far as we can tell. Legends of shapeshifters exist in nearly every culture. It's potentially a social anthropologist's dream to figure out."

"Wow, impressive that you've been able to hide for so long."

"Regimes that control information dissemination help immensely," Bruce griped, "Conversely, it's frustrating as hell." His hand briefly stilled in Clint's hair. Until the hawk whined, making him chuckle.

"Yes dear. Attention whore," he said affectionately, gently shaking the archer's head.

"You love it," Clint said, teasing.

"Hm, try again," Bruce prompted, garnering one of Clint's blinding smiles.

Their interaction made Tony sigh wistfully. Since the restructuring of his company, he'd not had the time or opportunity to attempt a relationship. Several of Pepper's PAs had tried to make overtures, but she always fired them as soon as he realized, and told her. One agreement they had established when he promoted her, was that his relationships would not come from within the company. He'd considered that he might have a chance with Dr. Banner, but this tableau before him apparently put paid to that idea. So he wrestled his neglected libido back into its box, and smiled.

He'd keep on smiling, until he was numb.

Bruce had noticed Tony's discomfiture, but didn't think the man was truly put off by the display of affection. He'd have to give it some thought before acting on it. Clint quietly observed the entire event, as was his way. He was independently coming to his own conclusions. Both shifters wondered how things could change, for the better, as well as for the worse.

"Okay, we've got 15 minutes. Better get back to the gym. Human, or animal, Feathers?" Bruce nudged Clint in the back, urging the man to get up.

"Human, according to the roster. The hangar hasn't been converted yet for our use," came the reply as Clint smoothly regained his feet and spun around to give a hand to Bruce.

"Cut that out! I'm neither old or infirm!" Bruce laughed, the lines around his mouth deepening, and crow's feet squinching at the corners of his eyes. The deep, rich sound acting like a balm on the other two men. One because he knew he was loved, another, because he wished to be.

"Yes granddad," Clint sniped, dancing out of the way of Bruce's lunge. Bruce immediately crowded the smaller man against the nearest wall, holding him in place by sheer presence.

"Behave," he growled, eyes intense as he stared at Clint, needing a small display of dominance

Clint briefly lost himself in the brown depths, picking out the pale amber lights that reminded him of good scotch. When Bruce growled again, nearly subvocal, he snapped back to himself and tilted his head to expose his neck.

"Thank you," Bruce whispered, backing off with a simple, light touch to Clint's chin.

"Um," Tony breathed, turned on by Bruce's display.

"Don't worry about it. Barton's too cocky for his own good," Bruce threw over his shoulder as he opened the door and headed into the hall. He needed a moment alone to pull back on the dominance. He didn't often use it, but Clint loved to push boundaries. They'd realized early in their relationship that it was good to bother with the posturing they otherwise didn't care for. It had kept their reflexes sharp. Which had been a good thing, several times over, in the past. He did wonder why Clint had triggered it right then. He'd have to remember to ask his archer later.

Clint had an insouciant grin on his face as he deliberately adjusted himself in front of Tony before striding out the door after Bruce. "Gym 3, Stark. Come watch Bruce work out."

And if that wasn't blatant flirting, Tony would take a vow of chastity.

* * *

* - The Wolf Man, a 1941 movie, starring Lon Chaney Jr (though IMDB says he was listed without the 'Jr'), and Claude Rains. Bruce adding the 'junior' part was just to tell Tony that his information wasn't quite up to snuff. C'mon, they aren't going to immediately fall for each other, not really.


End file.
